


The Space Between

by jubilantscribbler



Series: Jaspvid Week 2020 [6]
Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Haunted Houses, Horror, M/M, Please let me know if there's anything else I should tag, Very Minor Necrophilia, Yandere
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:28:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25954492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jubilantscribbler/pseuds/jubilantscribbler
Summary: Day 6 - Killing TimeFinding the house of your dreams is no easy feat.  For David, it’s a dream come true!  And, with the added bonus of it being pre-furnished, he’s got all he needs - beds and couches and creaks and rattles and footsteps that don’t belong to him-...Well.  Maybe he jumped the gun a little too soon.
Relationships: David/Jasper (Camp Camp), Gwen/Jen (Camp Camp)
Series: Jaspvid Week 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1758160
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	The Space Between

**Author's Note:**

> this took so fuckING long i went through so many goddamn ideas but now
> 
> Now.
> 
> Now it's... halfway complete.
> 
> Special thanks to all the lovely people who betaed for me, especially since it was my first horror fic: [finitexs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/finitexs/pseuds/finitexs), [afterreign](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterreign/pseuds/afterreign), [Pyreclaws](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyreclaws/pseuds/Pyreclaws), [Meepy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meepy/pseuds/Meepy), and a friend who does not have an AO3 yet (you can find her under KFG24 on ff.net).

One of David's favorite books that he was forced to read as a student was, _To Kill a Mockingbird_. Well, maybe his _favorite_ is pushing it, he thinks, but it was definitely one of the few that kept his attention until the end. One of the characters he remembers the most is Boo Radley, the ghostly presence turned protector and hero of the main characters of the novel. He often thinks about the kind man, hurt by his father, and then by his brother, but still had enough kindness in him to leave gifts for his two little neighbors and watched over them from where he was locked up in his room. David finds himself thinking a lot about Boo Radley, about the ghostly man whose entire reputation was built on rumors and the fear behind his mystery, whose truth was only discovered because he rose up to save the two children he cared for, and was seen through Scout and Jem's knowing eyes as they finally got to see the man behind the curtain and rumors.

David thinks a lot about Boo Radley.

He thinks about Boo Radley as he sits at his table, house left pre-furnished by its previous owner, and stares down at the little bear with brown hair laying innocently on the table, eyes the shape of blue X's and skin made from a shirt he swore he simply misplaced a few days ago. He stares and stares and stares at it, before he picks it up with a trembling hand and gently turns it back and forth in his hand.

The hair is oddly cold to the touch, and the bear itself is made from his favorite flannel, one he's worn so often that it has become worn. He turns it back and forth and knows.

Knows.

_Knows._

That the shade of this doll is of a much deeper red than he remembers.

He swallows hard.

All his doors and windows are locked.

And he doesn’t remember seeing this little doll here ten minutes ago.

The floorboards above him creak as he feels his breath catch in his throat, hair standing on end as the air chills around him.

And he thinks. And thinks. And thinks.

And he finds himself back at the desperate thought of Boo Radley.

////

At first, it was just the little things.

Little creaks in the staircase. Groans from the walls. Ambient noises he thought were associated with aging houses.

But then he noticed a few more things.

Footsteps in the downstairs hallway. Boxes he hasn't opened yet tipped over and spilled of its contents. Putting his things down in one spot and waking up to find them somewhere else.

And then it became more than just the little things.

The noticeable chill in the air.

An extra step behind his.

The feeling of being watched.

And now.

He lays in bed, on his side, facing his window as he hears his bedroom door creak open ever so slowly. His breaths come to a halt as he keeps from exhaling. It's cold. Everything feels cold.

A creak by his bed.

Sweat builds in the small of his back, on the back of his neck, and he releases his breath slowly. Something inside him begs to act natural. He squeezes his eyes shut, and then relaxes them, and pretends to be asleep.

Pretends that he can't feel the sensation of eyes watching his every move, every little heave his body makes as he breathes and feels the pit of his stomach freeze and knot and grow heavy with each passing minute.

His breaths are too loud.

His mind is starting to spin.

Maybe he's overreacting.

Maybe he left the door open a crack and the weight of it was why it creaked open. Maybe the floorboards creak because the house creaks and it's windy outside.

If he calms down, maybe he'll even feel like his ears aren't underwater, and everything won’t feel muffled as panic overtakes his mind and he really really _really_ wants to hyperventilate but the fear of being watched keeps him from even wanting to breathe in the first place.

Maybe, if he just, confirms that nothing is there, he'll calm down.

He just needs to.

Open his eyes.

Just a little.

Confirm there's nothing there.

Nothing but himself and the shadows and his overactive imagination, just open your eyes David it's all okay, but just in case, just in case, right? Just in case, he'll open just. One eye. Just one. The one closest to the bed because... yes, because that's the one he's most comfortable with, obviously.

Slowly, he opens an eye and sees nothing. His eye adjusts to the dark room, and he sees his window. At first, all he can make out is the torrential rain pounding away at his window. But then.

Lightning flashes, and he catches a reflection.

A figure, bent over his form, looming just above him.

He closes his eye again. Measures his breaths to the count in his head and trembles as he tries to keep still and counts.

He counts to ten.

And then to twenty.

And then to thirty.

He counts as the sweat pools and his hair raises and his breathing is on the verge of choking him and clogging his chest.

A roll of thunder. He waits, slowly curling up tighter as the storm continues. Cold. So cold.

Another peal of thunder.

Should he? He swallows. His mind swims at what he thought he saw. 

Maybe.

Maybe it's gone.

It.

It has to be, right?

He counts to ten again.

He'll open his eye, and it'll be gone. A trick of the mind. Of the shadows! Of the lightning streaking through the night.

He counts to ten again.

Breathing becomes unbearable.

He counts to ten again.

And slowly. Opens one eye. Focuses on the window again.

Lightning strikes.

And the figure is gone.

He steadies his breathing, watching the window for movement and counts again. Slowly to ten, always to ten, before he opens his other eye. Counts once again.

And slowly turns over.

Nothing.

Nothing but the bear, staring straight at him from his bedside table. He stares at it as it stares back at him. 

He didn't put the bear there.

He knows he didn't put it there.

He sits up slowly and grabs the bear, nearly missing the note pinned to its paws. The paper is torn, feeling oddly aged as though it belongs to a book meant for reading, not writing. The words, however, are scratchy, messy, ink smudged and frantic as he reads the message in red.

_Stay with me._

He rips open the drawer of the side table and shoves the bear in with the note in one frantic movement. The wood of the table nearly splinters as he slams it shut with a loud bang and kicks the table away from him.

A pillow barely muffles his screams as he presses it hard against his face. Even with the bear stuffed away in the drawer, he can still feel eyes on him.

////

Nervous habits are made to provide a sense of comfort, even when they are more detrimental than helpful. Even so, they exist for a reason when logic cannot provide a convincing enough comfort in the moment. That's what he realizes as he grips the staircase banister like a lifeline, forcing himself to let go as he maps out where he wants to go. He walks through his new home and takes count of each footstep he makes.

One, two, three, four, five.

A corner. He turns it.

One, two, three, four, five.

The living room. Empty. Just him.

One, two, three, four, five.

The bookshelf. It's barely filled, just a single shelf with a few books piled in. He hasn't gotten around to opening the rest of his boxes, taking out each book, and putting them on the shelf. He got as far as three books before he felt something watching him.

And then he stopped.

The box besides the bookshelf has remained untouched since then. But now there's four books on the shelf.

He swallows. Hard. And takes down the fourth book.

_And Then There Were None._

He doesn't own this book. He's never even heard of this book. This isn't his book.

There's a corner folded over, bookmarked to a specific page. With shaking hands, he opens the book up to that page. A single highlighted line greets him in purple.

_"One of us in this room is in fact the murderer."_

A shaky laugh escapes him. Weird. Weird line to highlight. But highlights in books are normal sometimes. He flips through the book to verify his thoughts and... sees no other lines highlighted. He reaches the end of the book and realizes that a page is missing. But not before he reads words written in purple highlighter.

_GET OUT._

A chill runs down his spine as his breathing quickens and sharpens with ice in his lungs as he draws his shoulders in. The sound of his heartbeat is loud in his ears as he hears every little creak, every little groan, every little squeak inside his house of one, and every bit of him stiffens with each little noise as his fingers grow numb around this book that isn't his. His chest rises and falls with each of his breaths as he puts the book back with the slightest tremble.

Maybe it belongs to one of his friends. Maybe he borrowed it and forgot he even had it.

Maybe it's Jen's. She's into books like that, right? Books that sound like they have deaths and are ominous and have creepy titles that can mean anything but also only one thing at the same time.

Or maybe it's Gwen's. Gwen likes the color purple. Maybe she read this book for college and highlighted the one line and called it quits and wrote in it to tell a roommate to leave her room. His fingers dig through his shirt and into his chest.

It belongs to one of them. It has to. Books don't magically appear on bookcases. Maybe it belonged to the previous owner. Maybe he miscounted the books and there were originally four books, not three. Except he's been getting really good at counting lately, so-

He shakes his head and tries to clear it of the buzzing in his ears that's making everything feel so muffled. It's about time for him to go to bed anyways. It's late. He's imagining things. Imaging sounds. Putting emphasis on noises that have no meaning other than the house being old that's all there is to it he just needs to calm down settle his nerves get to bed and everything will be okay-

He needs to count his steps, taking a deep breath as he squeezes his eyes shut as he turns on his heels. Opens them to look at the ground. Refuses to lift his head as he pants and focuses on moving out of the room.

It took five steps to enter the room. It should take five to leave. He moves forward and counts.

One, two, three, four, five.

He sees where the room ends and the hallway begins. Turns the corner and remembers his steps. Five to the staircase.

One, two, three, four, five.

Six.

He pauses, freezes in his tracks.

Seven.

He's not moving.

Eight.

A floorboard creaks. Behind him.

Nine.

Breath caught in his throat. Air cold and freezing.

He can't move.

Ten.

And.

There's

some

thing

be

hind

him.

A puff of air against his neck.

Mind swimming, vision spinning. He can't think, thoughts numb with white noise as it hurts to breathe and his nerves freeze and burn at the same time.

Something clatters loudly behind him, from the living room. It jolts him into action, spurring his legs to move as he gathers his wits and runs.

Runs up the stairs and trips and nearly falls but doesn't as he clings to the banister and runs.

He runs to his room and refuses to look back as he hears steps that aren't his pounding in his ears as he stumbles into his room and slams the door shut and locks it.

A sob is choked back as he collapses against the door. The sob tries to force itself out of his chest and out into the open, but he instead covers his mouth and forces himself into silence. He listens to the creaks and groans of the house and his own terrified, muffled squeaks behind his hand as he sits in total darkness and imagines eyes in the corners of his room, a figure silhouetted from his window hidden by his curtains, a whisper in the walls that he doesn't want to hear.

He sees and doesn't see everything and anything.

His hand shakingly reaches up to the light switch, flicking it on as light floods the room.

Only then does he feel safe enough to sob.

Only then does he feel safe enough to cry himself to sleep. 

////

It's been two and a half weeks. Two and a half weeks of him shaking and crying and feeling eyes on him when he swears he's the only one in the house. He should leave. He should look for a new place to live in, even though this was just in his price range. Even though he fell in love with the town the house sits in, with the neighborhood looking quaint and bordered by the forest he so dearly loves already. Even though he had his heart set on this place the minute he found the listing and begged Gwen to help him with the paperwork, scrounged up funds and saved and negotiated and talked to the real estate agent who looked more than happy to sell him this place, even though Jen looked on with misgivings that he didn't take to heart because this place was _quaint_ and _perfect_ , because he so clearly wanted this place, and this place felt like it wanted him.

Now he thinks this place wants him too much.

He holds his phone tightly in his hand, staring intently at the screen as it reads 2:54 am. 

_"David."_ A conversation echoes in his mind as he remembers Gwen sitting in front of him, hands holding his as she stares at him seriously. _"I don't know what's going on with you now but... if you need someone to help you get through the night, you know you can call me or Jen, right? Just call one of us, we'll pick up no matter what."_

Except it's almost 3 am, and he knows they both have work in the morning. He sighs as he rubs his temples, the creaks and groans of the house making his hair stand on end as he hears something tapping in the walls, a whisper that he hopes is just his imagination working overtime, a telltale creak of the floorboards-

His phone vibrates in hands, making him yelp and juggle the device about before catching it and staring at the caller ID.

He doesn't know this number.

But it's in the same state as he's in, so maybe just a telemarketer? But what kind of telemarketer calls at 3 am?

His phone keeps vibrating.

He's seen movies with phone calls in them. Usually when the main character picks up, something terrible always comes to follow.

He shouldn't pick up the phone.

He really shouldn't.

There's a thump by his head as he squeaks and hits "Accept".

The screen changes as the unknown number fills up the screen, and he struggles between feeling apprehension and a false sense of security. He chooses security, as the thumps in the wall begin to continue their heart racing melody of something. It’s… it's just to pass the time. Until the sun rises.

...Right?

Static greets his ears.

"H... hello?" 

More static.

His breathing quickens as his mind finds itself swimming in paranoia and terror all over again.

"If... if there's anyone there, can you please say something?"

Or nothing at all. He's not sure which he'd prefer.

A loud screech of what sounds like grating metal screams in his ear, and he drops his phone to the ground, shuffling as fast as he can away from his phone. The screeching metal continues as the static stutters. It continues for a few more seconds before.

Nothing.

The phone barely makes a noise as he tries to keep his breathing under control, hands dropping from his ears.

That was unexpected.

Scenarios bounce around in his head as he stares at his phone. Scenarios he'd rather ignore as the static picks up again. He braces himself for- more screeching metal? Something equally as terrifying? He's not sure, but he wishes he never answered his phone. His life is enough of a living nightmare as it is. Carefully, he scoots closer to his phone and looks at the screen.

The call is still going. And static still pushes through the receiver.

_"H... ar... -ere?"_

A voice strangled by the static. David covers his mouth to stifle the sound of his breathing.

_"Ca... hea... me?"_

The static is overpowering. As the voice struggles to be heard, the static grows louder and louder. Like a barrier, he realizes. But a barrier for what?

_"Pleas... -y some...-ng."_

From what he can make of the voice, it sounds... frightened? Worried? Tense, maybe. He lowers his hand. Maybe he should-

_ "I know you're there." _

Or not. The voice, once strangled by the static, rings out loud and garbled, as though someone were changing through the radio stations too quickly. David curls up tighter and presses his face against his knees. He should hang up. He needs to hang up. Hang up hang up hang up hang up grab the phone and hang up-

_"...I'm sorry."_ The voice speaks again, less garbled. More singular. Just a single person. _"It's okay."_ He lifts his head just enough to peek at his phone. The static is still there, threatening to stifle and bury the voice again but... it's not as thick as it was before. _"Take your time. I'm not going anywhere."_

The voice is... oddly comforting once the garble is gone. He can make it out better now. Masculine, he thinks. Just a bit higher than his voice, but not by much. Wispy. A bit airy. Maybe that's why the static overtakes it so easily.

He picks up his phone cautiously and brings it back up to his ear. The static, while still present, is softer now, less grating on his nerves, and he only has to lower the volume a little bit.

"H... hello?"

_"Oh! Hello!"_ The enthusiasm surprises him, but the voice sounds nice enough. _"I wasn't sure you were going to answer back, to be honest. I'm sorry it took me a while to respond."_

"It's um, it's okay." He rubs his temple and sighs. Well, maybe this phone call can take his mind off of... the thumping noise from under his room and wow, this static though. 

"May I ask who's calling?"

_ "Right, we uh, we've never met, huh? My name's Jasper." _

"Hi, Jasper. Why are you... calling me?" At such a late hour too.

_ "Oh, uh, I was just... sorry. I guess, I was... curious? About the person who bought my house." _

His house?

"Are you the previous owner?" David thinks of the couch and bookshelves and tables left behind, furniture that he now owns for some inexplicable reason that he once believed to be luck, but now finds oddly suspicious. "Why did you- wait, how did you get my number?"

_ "I dialed every number in the phone book before I finally got yours!"  _

Static fills the air.

"You... wouldn't that take forever?"

_"...It was a joke."_ An awkward laugh. _"Actually, the uh, real estate agent let me know that... my house was sold and I... asked. Politely, of course! If I could get your number."_

"Why?"

_ "...I just wanted to make sure." _

"...Make sure of what?"

A cabinet slams shut downstairs, making David jump as he slaps a hand over his mouth.

_ "I think you know what." _

David squeezes his eyes shut as a whimper escapes him.

"The monster."

_"The... huh."_ The static grows loud again as Jasper tries to speak. _"Th... -ster... is... -ly... -um... na-...d, fuc-... he...lo?"_

"J...Jasper?" 

Jasper cuts out as he curses and tries again. _"Sorr... bad connec-...on. Listen, the-_ " Static bursts through the speakers, louder than before as David pulls the phone away from his ear. Jasper's voice is drowned out yet again, and David can only manage a whimper as he struggles to make out Jasper's frustrated voice.

"Maybe... you should try moving to a different location?"

_"...Can't."_ Jasper's defeated laugh is spliced up by the static, but at least he can hear his words now. _"I just... wanted to help you. But I guess I can't."_

"It's okay, I-" He hears something break downstairs. A yelp escapes David as he tries to reason with himself. Probably just a plate he didn't put away properly. It just fell over in the sink. He bites into his hand and tries to steady his breathing. It has to be. Because it can't be anything else. He doesn't want it to be anything else. A desperate whine escapes him as he whimpers out, "How did you make it through the nights?"

_ "I'd just... find ways to kill time."  _

"Like?" David cringes as his voice breaks on the word. "Sorry, I shouldn't keep you on the line for this. It's late, and-"

_"Hey bud, it's okay."_ It's not okay. Everything feels too loud, too much. It's like he can hear every little noise and feel every little shake from where he sits in his room. And now he's making some random stranger worried about him. _"I was the one who called first. I had a feeling this would happen. You mind if I keep you company?"_ David lowers his hand to speak, but his breath hitches as he hears the creak of something, somewhere in the house opening, or something closing, very slowly. _"You don't gotta say anything, I just need to hear you breathe, okay? ...Wait, that sounds creepy."_

David huffs a strained laugh as he presses the phone closer to his ear.

_"I don't mind doing all the talking, so you can just listen, alright? I'm here with ya until the sun rises."_ David looks at his watch. 3:17 am. Just a few more hours. But does anything really change when the sun rises? _"Everything gets less scary when the sun is up, I promise. Just- um, shit, just to make sure, is your door locked? Your bedroom door. You don't gotta talk, if it makes you feel safer. Just tap your mic or something. Once for yes, twice for no."_

He taps his phone once.

_ "...Atta boy. Listen, at night, the safest place you can possibly be is your room when it's locked. You have to lock your room every night. I... can't guarantee you'll be okay if you don't. Can you promise me that you'll do that?"  _

He taps his phone again, shaking just a bit at Jasper's insistence. This was... not as distracting as he hoped it would be.

_ "Alright, good. I know it's scary but... let's get you comfortable, yeah? Are you in bed?" _

He taps twice.

_ "Okay, let's get you in bed. You're safe right now, you're safe, I promise. Can you get to your bed for me?"  _

David stands up with a shaky breath and sways slightly. A whimper escapes him, but Jasper's voice crackles through softly.

_"Hey man, you're doing great, it's gonna be okay. Beds are soft, right? Soft and warm, and even better with blankets."_ Jasper pauses for a minute, his voice picking up a lighthearted tone as David makes his way slowly to his bed, counting his steps and looking directly at the floor. _"Hey, you know, when I was a kid, I had like, the tightest blanket ever. It had like, you know, those turtles? Ninja Turtles. Came in a set of sheets. All Ninja Turtle themed. Greatest shit I ever had as a kid. And it was wild because like- as a kid, you hear names like, Donatello and Michelangelo and shit, but like, instead of thinking of great respected artists from the Renaissance or whatever, the first thing that comes to mind are motherfucking turtles. Turtles! Turtles that eat pizza, live in New York sewers, and can apparently do ninja stuff. Wild concept, loved every inch of it. Also it had like, a rat as the old master, the papa of the group, which is the gnarliest fucking shit ever because like, rats are hella cool, but also, his name is like, Splinter? What? Like, seriously? Splinter? The turtles get baller names while he gets called a sliver of wood - the ninja rat master who raised four babies by himself?"_

As Jasper goes on in his ear, David crawls into bed and pulls the covers over his head. While he's sure he'll be suffocating in record time, he at least feels safer while he listens to this complete stranger ramble on about the Ninja Turtles. It relaxes him just enough that he lets out a soft chuckle at Jasper's insistence that Splinter could have had a cooler name, and it's enough to get the man to halt in his rant.

_ "Right, uh, awkward question given the fact you've had to listen to me ramble about sewer turtles, but. What's your name?" _

"Oh, um, my name is David!" He rolls onto his side to hold the phone more comfortably, smiling a bit as he does so. "It's... it's nice to meet you."

_"Of course!"_ He's so cheery. Even with how their call started out, David's relieved now that he picked up the phone. David opens his mouth, ready to say something like, what other shows did Jasper watch as a kid? And why did he move out and leave all his furniture behind?

And what does he know about the house that made him call David in the first place?

"Hey, Jasp-"

A rattling makes him freeze in place, breath stuttering to a halt.

That's.

That's his doorknob.

_ "...David?" _

The rattling continues. Pauses. And then continues with a vicious energy as he listens to the wooden door jostle in its frame. Listens as his door threatens to break and dull thuds begin to bang at his door-

_"David, listen to me."_ The sound of Jasper's voice has him release his breath in a shudder, nearly whimpering as he listens to Jasper once again. _"It's gonna be alright, I promise."_

"...How?" He tries to suck in a breath, but the sound of something beginning to splinter has him choke back a sob instead. That figure he saw.

It's trying to get him, isn't it?

_"Because I'm here."_ David wants to laugh at how confident Jasper sounds. He's here? As just a voice that David can cling to in possibly his last moments because his door is about to be ripped from its hinges or broken in half as a monster charges into his room to murder him- _"Hey, who was your favorite Ninja Turtle?"_

"...What?"

_"Who was your favorite?"_ At first, David wants to yell at Jasper. Really? At a time like this? Why would he- 

A slamming noise.

David yelps and lets a soft sob escape.

He's going to die.

"Jasper, I really don't think-"

_"Trust me."_ Jasper's voice has a touch of urgency to it as he talks over what has turned into scratching and thumping.

The door rattling still hasn't stopped.

"I-" David stares blankly at his covers as Jasper lets the static fill the air. He's going to die, isn't he? Jasper knows. And the only thing he can do. 

The only thing Jasper can do.

David's eyes well up with tears as he bites back a whimper.

"...My favorite Ninja Turtle?"

_ "Yeah, dude, who was your big fave?" _

Even if it's for a little bit. If Jasper can provide a small comfort before he can die. Then maybe. Maybe. He can indulge in it for just a little bit.

"Um, mine was Raph." 

Jasper lets out an over dramatic gasp. _"Raph??"_ His voice blocks out the rattling door. _"Dude, I would have NEVER taken you for someone who'd like Raph."_

"What makes you say that?"

_ "I dunno, man! Like, you sound polite and nice and uh... cool! Yeah, cool. But mostly just nice! And sorta soft-spoken? But I guess that could be more because of the- yeah, I guess I never would have taken you for someone who liked the violent, angry, macho turtle of the group." _

"I guess I um, admired him a lot, as a kid."

_ "Because he was tough?" _

"Yeah, that, and because he was strong and fierce. I wanted to be like that, when I was a kid." A loud crashing noise comes from the hallway, and he curls up tighter. "I-I don't know, I was just a kid, so-"

_"Nah, I think that's pretty rad."_ The static dies down a bit, and he swears he can hear Jasper more clearly now. His voice is... softer without the edge of the static breaking into his words. A bit more smooth. There's a pause on Jasper's end as a shuffling noise makes itself apparent. _"Why'd you wanna be like Raph?"_

"Um, well, I just thought... y'know, if I was tougher, things would be... easier for me." He thinks back to the bullies on the playground who'd make fun of him for having no dad, for not being good enough for a dad, for just being David. It hurt. And when he'd watch cartoons on Sundays all by himself, he'd see this turtle wearing a bandanna similar to his hair color and think, " _Yeah, that's someone who doesn't get bullied."_

He thinks about all of this and swallows as Jasper waits patiently from the other side.

"He... made me want to be stronger."

_"Well, if it helps, I think you're pretty strong."_ David laughs weakly as he relaxes.

"How?"

_"Check the time."_ David blinks as he pulls the phone away from his face.

6:00 am.

Right on the dot.

And.

His room is quiet.

The house is quiet.

There's.

There's nothing.

He lifts the covers from his head and sees the sunlight peeking out from under his curtains.

_"You did it, broski."_ Jasper's voice rings light and proud, the static catching up to him as his voice starts to break up. _"To- ya yo-... -ng."_

"Wait, hello? Jasper?" He leaps from his bed and yanks the curtains away. The sun rises slowly over the treetops, just enough to clearly make it morning. "Jasper, are you there?"

Nothing but static answers him.

His ears strain, trying to catch a hint of that voice that comforted him through the night.

But.

Nothing.

"...Thank you."

////

David doesn't sleep at night anymore. He finds he can't afford to, what with the figure of the house scratching and slamming against his door every night now.

The door needs to be replaced, he realizes, with every day that passes. It'll only be a matter of time before it gets broken down. But always, at the last minute, the creature trying to get back into his room is interrupted, and once 6 am hits, the door destruction stops.

It helps that he has someone with him to pass the time.

Or rather, distract him from his current fears.

Jasper calls after midnight, never at a specified time, but somehow always when David needs him the most. And every night, he talks about everything and nothing while soothing David and offering him advice.

_ "Steer clear of the walls." _

_ "Don't go into the basement." _

_ "Speak in whispers." _

_ "Look out for strange cracks and holes in the walls." _

_ "Get the hell out of that place." _

Sound advice, really.

Sometimes, there are moments where Jasper pauses. Like he wants to say something else. Something important. But every time he does, his connection acts up, and he cuts out, gets buried by the static as he frantically tries to tell David something, anything. He always sounds frustrated, upset that he can't pass on whatever it is he wants to say.

Like he's upset he's not doing enough.

But he's doing more than enough.

If only Jasper knew how desperately David clung to his voice, to his presence at night. Just by being there for him, even if he wasn't physically here, was more than enough for David on most nights.

Jasper's name flashes on his phone, and he picks up immediately.

Static fills the air once again. But now it's... oddly comforting to hear.

"Hello?"

The static stutters and sputters, voices garbling together and separating all at once, and David finds himself waiting patiently for the voices to mingle and separate into a single voice he's finding more familiar by the night.

_ "Heya, Davey!" _

And he smiles.

"Hey, Jasp."

Jasper is willing to talk about anything. From the weather, what he saw on TV, things he thought were interesting as a kid, things he thinks are interesting now, and ways to feel safe in the house. 

Sometimes, when the footsteps grow closer to his door, or something slams downstairs, or even if there's thunder outside his window, Jasper would crack a joke, just to hear David giggle. He's reassuring in a goofy way, and David huddles closer to his phone under the covers to try and hear his voice better.

Despite all he talks about, however, Jasper refuses to talk about himself.

_ "Never mention my name outside of your room," he says one night. "Can you promise me that?" _

"Wh- uh, why's that?" 

Static. And then a soft:

_ "I just don't wanna take any chances." _

And Jasper wouldn't say anymore than that. Instead, Jasper would ask more about him.

_ "What's your favorite kind of animal?" _

_ "Favorite drink?" _

_ "Favorite color?" _

_ "Favorite places to be?" _

And of course he answers. He's always been partial to dogs, hot chocolate is always good at soothing his nerves, green reminds him of nature, and he loves being out in the woods. But as fun as it is to answer questions about himself, he still finds himself wanting… more.

"Hey, Jasp." 

_ "Yeah?" _

"I know we um, we haven't known each other for long but..." He pretends that the thumping noise he hears is the sound of his heart, and not the sound of something slowly climbing down the stairs. "But maybe, you think, we could meet up in the daytime or-"

_"Oh, um."_ Jasper interrupts him, and it's enough to have his heart sink. He's heard this a few times in his past. He knows where this is going. _"I'm... sorry. I wish I could, I'm just-"_ Hesitance draws Jasper to a stop, and David wonders if the next word he was going to say was _straight_. _"...I'm just, really far away right now. But, if I was... physically there right now, I would have loved to hang with you."_

"...I see."

_"I mean it, dude!"_ Jasper's voice grows clearer than the static, and he wonders what it is that suddenly makes their connection better. _"You're totally rad and cool and brave and kinda dumb for sticking with this for so long, and if I could- if I had the chance I'd-"_ His voice breaks a bit. _"If things were so much more different, I would have loved to just... be able to vibe with you, man. Just take ya somewhere far away from… here."_

David lays frozen in place as he listens to a voice hitch from the other side. There's only so much a late night phone conversation can convey. There's only so much a late night phone conversation can offer.

He wishes he can reach out and brush the tears away from Jasper's eyes.

But he can't.

Hell, he doesn't even know what the man looks like.

But his voice and presence fills him with an ease he hasn't felt since moving into this place. He'd even dare say that Jasper is the only good thing that came out of moving into a house that constantly whispers of how haunted it is to David with every passing night. Instead, he curls onto his side and rests his hand on his bed, rubbing his thumb on the sheets in circles and imagining a little self-indulgence.

And he offers the only thing late night phone conversations can offer.

Simple words.

"Um, well, if- if it helps I... I'm already pretty happy uh, vibing, with you like this." David lowers his voice a little, until it's not quite a whisper, but not quite loud enough that the ears in the walls can hear a word he says. "Even if, even if we can't meet, at least I still get to talk with you."

At first, nothing but the static answers him. And then.

A soft, broken laugh rings in his ear. Clearer than day. Like he's really laying right next to him.

_ "You're really the coolest cat on the block, Davey." _

"Gosh that's- that's, uh..."

_ "Really outdated?" _

"I was going to say, really sweet of you to say." He smiles and curls his hand on his bed. 

The house is silent again.

_ "Looks like the morning is here." _

"Yeah." Which means Jasper is going to disappear. His smile drops as he clings to the sheets. "Um, Jasp, I know you... tend to leave around this time but. Can you just, will you stay on the line just a little longer?"

He expects the static to answer him. Jasper never really manages to get a clear goodbye out before the static takes over.

But.

_ "...I'd love to." _

Luck is on his side this time.

The smile is back on his face as his eyelids lower slightly.

"Thanks. Can I... ask you a question?"

_ "Um, sure." _

Jasper rarely answers questions about himself.

"What's your favorite color?"

_"Oh."_ And the surprise is clear in his voice as he takes a while to gather himself. _"It's- it's purple."_

"That's a nice color!" David can feel himself grow sleepy, and he yawns. "You think green and purple go well together?"

_"Oh, deffo, dude."_ He’d listen to Jasper talk all day and night if he could. _"I mean, there's already a good example of that color combo."_

"What is it?"

_ "Barney the Dinosaur."  _

David can't help the wheezing laugh that escapes him, and he cradles the phone closer to his ear as he hears Jasper laugh with him. "To be honest, I thought you would say something like, Donnie from the Ninja Turtles, or, umm..."

_"Or Skittles? Maybe some fresh kicks that'll make any cool kid on the block jealous of my sweet swag?"_ Imagining the shoes gives David a headache, and he presses his lips into a tight line. 

"I uh, no, I don't think- hm. Well I mean, I guess, to each his own." Jasper laughs again, and it's enough to get David to smile before another yawn makes its way out.

_ "Sounds like someone's getting sleepy." _

"Oh hush. I'm surprised you're not getting sleepy too."

_"Nah, I don't sleep. Too wired for that."_ A spike of worry has David opening his eyes wide.

"You're not staying awake because of me, are you?"

_ "No dude, hey, don't sweat it. I just... have trouble sleeping is all. You don't gotta worry about me." _

"But what if I want to? You're already doing a lot for me just... talking me through the nights. I want to return the favor somehow."

_"Easy. Just stay alive for me, okay?"_ There's an odd weight to Jasper's words that reminds David for just a moment of where he is, and why Jasper’s even talking to him in the first place. _"And staying alive means getting some sleep too."_

David thinks back to the figure that entered his room, to the figure that chased him down in the hallway that one day. 

When it was daylight out.

Like it is now.

He gulps, and wonders truly, if things actually do get less scary when the sun is up.

"I... yeah, I mean, I can um, try."

_"...Hey."_ Jasper's voice adopts that soothing tone he's grown so used to hearing. _"Don't worry about it too much. How about- hm, what makes you less scared?"_

"...You."

The static creeps back in, and David worries that maybe he's scared Jasper off, and he's ready to take back his words when Jasper makes a soft sound.

_"Oh."_ Jasper's voice drops in volume, but somehow, David can still hear him without having to up the volume on his phone. _"Huh. Okay, w-well, um, think of it like this. How about... your phone is your good luck charm then."_

"Why?"

_"I think you can figure that part out."_ Jasper sounds a little shy, a bit embarrassed before he rushes on to keep David from responding. _"So yeah! Just like, keep your phone on you and like, um, everything will be totally okay! I promise."_

"Okay, I... I trust you." He holds onto his phone more tightly. "Can we... um, talk during the day too? If. If that's alright with you."

_ "I'd... I'd really like that, Davey. But uh, I dunno if you can tell, but I have pretty awful reception in general. I don't know if... I can't guarantee they'll be of the same quality as they are at night."  _

"I'll take it." He doesn't care if all he gets are garbled words and a voice broken by the static. All he needs is to feel that Jasper is with him, somehow. It'll be enough to get him through the day, if worse comes to worse.

_ "Alright, bud. You ready for that sleep yet?" _

"Mmm..." He doesn't want to admit it, but the exhaustion is starting to get to him. His eyes droop close as he struggles to cling to Jasper's voice.

_"Don't fight it, just get that sleep, okay?"_ Jasper's voice is soft and gentle. And not a hint of static edges out his voice. _"Don't worry about a thing. I'll protect you. I promise."_

Maybe it's the exhaustion. Or maybe it's just his imagination working overtime. But as David drifts off to sleep, and the call hangs up on its own, he swears.

He swears he can feel the weight of someone's hand on top of his.

And.

He doesn't want them to let go.

////

His phone lies heavy in his pocket, hand wrapped tight around it as he makes his way to the kitchen. Even though Jasper said that his phone was his good luck charm now, he still feels vulnerable and frightened as he tries not to think of the things he imagines seeing in the corner of his eye.

He turns quickly to look behind him. Nothing but the empty hall greets him. Instead, David feels a chill run down his spine as a tapping noise in the wall follows him around the house. It doesn't matter where he is or where he's going.

It just.

Follows.

Like a leaky faucet that refuses to turn off, each step he takes is followed by a tap in the wall. What makes it worse is when he stands in place, and the taps grow louder and louder as it stays in one spot. Something's trying to break through, he's sure of it.

So he keeps moving. To keep the taps from getting louder. To keep from whatever is making the tapping noises from breaking through his walls and getting to him.

He walks and walks and walks and finds himself in the kitchen. Here, the taps don't follow. They stop, as if forced to a halt.

Finally, a place where they can't follow. He desperately needs a drink.

Boxes still litter the kitchen, with only one of them open and gutted of its contents. What little was in the box is now in the sink. He hasn't gotten around to opening the other boxes. 

He doesn't think he'll ever get to opening them. Not until he's found a new place to live in. Shaking hands reach into the sink to grab a mug. Hot cocoa for the nerves, despite the fact that it’s currently summer and hot cocoa in this kind of heat feels only a tad bit strange. He begins washing the mug as he thinks to where he keeps the instant cocoa.

As he sets the mug aside to dry, he reaches over to the stove and picks up his kettle. He quickly fills it up with water and sets it on the stove, listening to the clicks of the burner as it turns on. The flames burst to life as he turns to grab a packet of instant cocoa. 

So far, so good.

His ears strain for another sound, another sign that something is about to go amiss. Setting the packet down next to the mug, he turns instead to look at his fridge.

The fridge he hasn't touched since he first moved in.

There is... something off about it.

Of course, the thing is empty. When he'd first looked inside it during the house tour, there was nothing inside.

It was only after he moved in that something about it screamed wrong.

He approaches it slowly, gulping as he places his hand on the fridge door.

It's... empty. He knows it's empty. There's nothing inside it. But something about it still makes his fingers quake as they grip the handle.

He just needs to confirm.

There's nothing inside. There has to be nothing inside.

His imagination races as he thinks of gruesome discoveries he's read of in old articles and documentaries of serial killers.

He just has to confirm. There's nothing inside. _There's nothing inside._ As soon as he sees there's nothing inside, he can move on from this awful vibe that he gets from the fridge, right?

Right.

He takes a deep breath. Holds tightly to the door. Steadies himself. Reassures himself. Counts to ten and-

The door flies open.

His breath gets caught in his chest as he stares at the contents of the fridge.

Nothing.

He lets it go, relief trying to fight its way through his paranoia. The fridge is empty. But the feeling remains.

His eyes flick up to the freezer half of the fridge.

It'll be empty too, he's sure of it.

His hand reaches up to the door of the freezer, ready to yank it open when-

The kettle screams behind him, startling him out of his thoughts as he turns back to the stove. Immediately, the noise sets him to a panic as he rushes over to turn off the stove and remove the kettle. Once the whistling stops, he looks around the kitchen, sweat beading on his forehead as he listens for any telltale signs of the house's awakening. 

But nothing.

Yet.

He sighs and looks to his mug, finding the packet of instant cocoa already torn open and the contents emptied neatly into the mug.

Huh. Weird. When did he do that?

He rubs his eyes and massages his temples. Must have forgotten about doing it. Lack of sleep makes one have bad memory or something, according to Gwen. He clings to that explanation as he pours the hot water into the mug, grabbing a spoon to mix the contents and listening closely to the walls, the floors, anything to alert him to whatever else creeps around the house. With a clink, he drops the spoon into the sink and grabs the mug.

And takes a deep breath.

And braces himself.

He takes a step out of the kitchen and flinches at the sound of the creaking floor. Nothing happens.

He holds the mug tightly in his hands and rushes towards the staircase. A cold breeze brushes into him and forces him to a halt.

None of the windows are open.

A crashing noise comes from inside the living room. It sounded... heavy. Heavier than usual. Nothing like the shattered pottery or out of place books that he had almost grown accustomed to. No, this was... furniture. Big, bulky furniture that should not be able to fall over by itself.

He knows better than to take a peek inside the living room. But... he needs to know.

He needs to know if he has enough time to make it to the front door.

Slowly, he takes a deep breath. Puts the cooling mug down on a side table. Steels himself as he peeks around the corner. 

His eyes focus on the window with the curtains drawn. From there he slowly looks about the room. The beat up old couch, left behind by Jasper. Nothing on it. Then the closest corner. Nothing. He turns his head towards the opposite corner, where the wall leads to the doorway he peeks around and sees only the lamp standing idly by itself. He looks to the bookcases themselves, and they're looking alright, upright and fallen over as usual-

Ah.

His eyes settle on one of the bookcases, the one fallen on its side against the wall, the few books spilling to the floor as a chill climbs up his spine.

Bookcases don't just fall over like that.

It's a cheap bookcase, the sides of the wood looking ready to fall apart as a shelf or two tilt dangerously close to popping out or breaking. He looks up from the fallen bookshelf, breath caught in his throat because why the bookshelf, what is he-

There's a crack in the wall.

Or.

Actually.

That's not a crack in the wall.

He remembers Jasper's words.

_Look out for strange cracks or holes in the walls._

Except.

That's not a crack.

That's an opening. A very small one. A sliver of one. As though someone was in the midst of opening a door and was stopped a second too soon.

Except the door is a section of the wall.

The air freezes around him as he sees one, two, three pale fingers slowly reach through the sliver and curl around the edge of the wall.

And he hears the scrape of the wood push against the ground.

The figure is coming for him.

The words repeat over and over in his mind.

It's coming for him.

He needs to run.

_He needs to run._

It's coming.

The fingers push enough for him to see pale, bony hands grasping and clawing at the wall as the opening widens and it tries to pull itself out.

He needs to run.

But he can't move. His legs feel like lead, weighed down by what he sees as his heart pounds in his ears and his mind swims and makes his thoughts impossibly dizzy and he wants to cry and he wants to scream and he wants to run run run _run_ -

A creak of wood is his only warning as he sees the second bookshelf crash down on the first one, landing at an awful angle and cracking the wood and doing absolutely nothing to block the opening even more-

But it's enough to make David snap out of it. Long enough to have him turn on his heels and run for the door. Long enough that he makes it and fumbles for the locks and hears a deafening screech from the living room, and it's not the bookshelves being shoved, that's not what the sound of wood being pushed violently against wood sounds like- 

The door unlocks and he throws it open, rushing through it and hearing it slam behind him as he stumbles and runs for his car. 

Except his keys are inside.

He slams his fist against his car and screams, looking this way and that for something, anything-

His phone.

He pushes away from his car and instead pulls out his phone, dialing as he runs towards the town.

Cars drive past as he continues to run, panting and listening to that familiar sound of a phone dialing a number, and he counts the rings as his feet pounds against the cement, and he's running as fast as he can, and he can't look back, can't look back, don't look back-

_ "Hello?" _

He nearly sobs as he continues to run.

"Gwen!"

_ "David? What's- are you running right now?!" _

"No time- can you- please-" He can't stop running, even as his lungs scream for him to stop, his legs already burning from the exertion as he makes it to a crosswalk and merely turns the corner. "Meet me- meet me at the cafe, please-"

_ "David, what's wrong?!" _

"Please I need- pick me up please-"

_ "I'm on my way, hold on-" _

"Hurry, please-" He runs across a crosswalk, the signal already flashing as he takes advantage of the moment and makes it across. Landmarks rush past him as he sees the familiar cafe in the distance. 

_ "David, I've got to hang up, but I'll be there in five minutes, okay?" _

He hopes that he'll be okay by then. He pushes through the doors of the cafe, cold air conditioning greeting him as he pants. Patrons stare at him with confusion and concern as he collapses into the nearest empty seat he can grab.

"Okay."

He hears the slamming of a car door and he hangs up the phone. With a tired sigh, he drops his forehead down onto his arms and wheezes.

Just five minutes.

He can hang on until then.

Until then, he keeps a shaky grip on his phone and begins to count.

////

"...It's not going to be easy."

"I know."

"You just bought the place too, people are going to tell you that you'll be selling at a loss."

"I know."

"David-"

"Gwen, I know." He sits curled up on her couch, scrolling through his contacts idly. He's been hiding at Gwen's for a week. 

And no calls from Jasper since he ran.

He frowns as he hits the dial button again, listening as an automatic voice tells him that the number he's reached is unavailable. A hand reaches over and plucks his phone from his grasp.

"Hey!" He reaches for his phone, but Gwen holds it away from him, a frown on her lips as she sighs. 

"David, focus." Without looking at the screen, she hangs up on the robotic voice and pockets his phone. "I'm trying to help you move out of your... fucked up place."

"Just say haunted." The two of them turn their heads towards the source of the third voice. Jen sits lazily at Gwen's kitchen table, a charm bracelet spinning on her finger as the blonde smirks. 

"Jen." Gwen crosses her arms and shakes her head. "Now's really not the time for your supernatural bullshit-"

"It's not bullshit, Gwennie." The bracelet drops down her finger as she rolls it back on. With a flourish, she's on her feet and stretching, rolling her neck and twirling a bit of her hair around her finger. "It's the truth."

"Ghosts don't exist-"

"Oh sure, and his bookshelves fell over because they felt like it." Jen strolls over and leans against her girlfriend as sharp, icy eyes study David from where he's curled up. "Unless you don't believe sweet little David here?"

"It could have been an earthquake-!"

"That no one else but David felt?"

David shrinks in his seat as Jen's eyes burn with a fierceness he hasn't seen since the day someone suggested Gwen had no future with the degree she held.

Gwen must recognize it too as she holds her hands out in a placating manner. "Jen-"

"You know, I always had a feeling that the real estate agent was lying to us when he said that there were no critters running around the place, even though we heard those noises in the walls. No rats, no raccoons, no nothing, right, Davey?"

"Um... yeah..." He expects a lecture, a scolding finger from Jen for making a rash decision when she expressed doubt in his options for housing. Instead, a minute passes by in silence before a soft hand ruffles his hair with an exasperated sigh.

"Well, I’m gonna say that I told you so. That place had awful vibes all around, so I’m surprised you honestly lasted this long.” A sympathetic smile replaces the smirk she wore earlier as she shrugs. “So we'd be bad friends if we didn't at least help you out of a tight spot, right?"

"You're gonna help me sell the house?"

"We're friends, not miracle workers." Jen rolls her eyes but her soft smile remains. "No, we'll just help you move your things out into our place, right, Gwennie?"

"Well, he's already been bunking on the couch for the past week." She returns Jen's smile and shrugs. "And it'd be nice to have someone around who actually does the dishes." She ignores the blonde's insulted scoff as she nudges Jen off of her. "We're not grabbing a lot of shit, are we?"

"Um." David thinks back to his things still in boxes and how he's been living off the bare minimum. Honestly, he thinks he'll be fine as long as he grabs the essentials. Some clothes, his own charger, laptop, keys, and... that's it. "I think I'll just need a backpack, really."

"Really?" Gwen looks taken aback, exchanging a look with Jen. "...Are you sure that'll fit everything?"

"Definitely." He gives them a shaky grin. "I really don't want to spend any more time there than I have to." Gwen opens her mouth to speak again, but Jen places her hand on brunette's shoulder.

"Alright, David. We'll be in and out, and then you'll never have to step in there again." Jen yanks David's phone from Gwen's pocket and tosses it to him. "I'm gonna grab a few things with Gwen, and then we'll go, okay?" David catches his phone and turns it about in his hands.

"Okay." He listens as the pair walk away, Gwen's concerned, "But what about his legal documents-," fading away as a bedroom door closes. Quietly, he unlocks his phone and scrolls through his contacts until he sees a familiar name.

Jasper.

His fingers hesitate as he figures out what he wants to do. Should he text him? Try calling him again? Jasper mentioned having bad connection, and the static that always plagued their calls did bring some validity to his words.

But a bad connection wouldn't make it difficult to read texts, right? He hovers a finger over the text option. It's... fine to text someone, isn't it? The worst thing that can happen is that Jasper ignores him. Or tells him not to text him.

That's it. Right?

A sense of apprehension washes over him as he stares at his screen.

He just wants to text Jasper. But at the same time.

He. Can't. Or won't? Shouldn't?

_ The number you have reached is unavailable. _

That can mean many things. Jasper's phone is off, Jasper's phone doesn't have connection, Jasper's phone is out of battery, Jasper's phone is-

He hits the text button and types out: _Hey, Jasp! It's me, David. Sorry for texting, I just haven't heard from you in a week and got worried, haha._

And hits send.

And waits.

He stares at his phone, hoping for a response. Not hoping for a response. Worried about the response.

The bedroom door opens and he quickly locks his phone before slipping it into his pocket. As she passes him, Gwen tosses a backpack onto his lap and grabs her keys.

"Ready to go?" Jen walks up to Gwen's side, a necklace consisting of a single, small crystal dangling against her chest. Ah, right, her good luck charm. David feels around in his pocket for his phone and squeezes it.

"As ready as I'll ever be." He gets up from the couch and swings the backpack on, following the pair into Gwen's car.

The trip to his house is silent. Neither Gwen nor Jen speak a word as David watches Jen rub a finger against her crystal. He always thought that her belief in it was sort of... well, he didn't really take her seriously when she insisted that the crystal protected her. Something about energies and forces that didn't mesh well with her own energy, making her sensitive and unnerved by the smallest of things.

It was this belief that kept her from stepping foot into his house the first time he toured it. He remembers how she held onto that crystal for dear life, paling under the sun and shaking her head when they asked her to come inside. He remembers thinking, he's never seen her this scared before. They didn't force her inside, but he also didn't heed her words when she said that there was something wrong with the house.

He didn't want to, at the time. He just wanted a place he could call his own. And it was all so perfect.

Of course there was a catch.

Of course Jen was right.

She and Gwen are usually always right.

He wraps a hand tightly around his phone and shrinks into himself.

He wishes Jasper would just call him already.

"We're here."

But all he can do is brace himself.

The trio exits the car with as much bravado as a group of kids facing a dilapidated house could feel. Only, instead of a murderous clown, it's a figure that David can't tell is human-like or not. The pale skin he saw sends shivers down his spine as he remembers its silhouette reflected back in the window. 

After today, he won't have to think about the figure ever again.

The thought is enough to spur him forward, marching past his friends as he makes for the front door and-

Odd.

He blinks, and looks down to see a... beanie baby? Slowly, he bends down and picks it up, the old toy looking worn and poorly stitched up, but still looking lovingly cared for. It's a husky, he realizes, as he rubs his thumb against the worn material. A dog. Black ink catches his attention, and he tugs at the tag to better read the childish scrawl.

And he blinks.

And remembers.

Boo Radley.

He turns and looks around wildly.

Boo always left little gifts for Jem and Scout, in a tree hollow before it was cemented up by his brother. That's what he remembers, at least. David doesn't have a tree hollow.

But this. The top step leading to the house that was supposed to be his. 

Maybe that will be enough.

When did he leave this? When was he here?

When did David miss seeing Jasper?

"The hell is that?" Gwen walks up to David, a curious look in her eyes as David clutches the toy closer to his chest. "...Is that a fucking beanie baby?"

"...Maybe."

"Aren't those extinct?"

"No."

"Jesus, that thing looks old." Gwen makes to reach for it, but David instead jerks away from her. He stammers as she raises an eyebrow.

"It's uh- it's a gift! A gift from someone."

"...Who?"

"Someone... someone I like." He smiles softly as he turns the doll this way and that in his hands. Maybe this was Jasper's way of saying goodbye. It's a somber thought, he thinks, but a thought that encourages him to finally grab his stuff and go. Maybe this was why Jasper stopped calling. 

To make sure David doesn’t have a reason to want to go back to the house. Just to hear his voice.

"Jesus Christ, what is-?" Jen stops where she walks up besides Gwen, her eyes locked on the toy as she freezes in place and immediately grabs her crystal. "David, put that down."

"...What?"

"I said put the damn toy down." Jen narrows her eyes as she stares at the beanie baby. "I fucking do not like the energy I'm getting from it."

David knows he should trust Jen's words. Especially now as they stand in front of this house that's been giving him grief for the past month or so.

But instead, he hugs it closer to his chest and looks down at his feet.

"I don't want to."

"David, for fuck's sakes-"

"This is different!" He doesn't mean to shout. But he can feel it. He _knows_ this is different. Because because because. "...I know who gave this to me. And... he's a nice man who's been helping me with- with staying alive, and keeping me calm, and giving me advice with how to deal with the thing living inside my walls and- I _know_ he just wants to help, and that I can trust him, so I don't know what weird energy or whatever you're feeling from this toy but-" He squeezes the toy and stares down Jen with a frown. "-but I trust J- I trust _him_." 

Jen looks between him and the toy, her lips pressed into a grimace as her shoulders drop. "Fine. Whatever. Your funeral. Don't say I didn't warn you." 

"Thank you," he mumbles as she brushes past him. Gwen only looks between the two of them before walking up the stairs, patting his shoulder and nodding towards the door.

...Right.

He carefully puts the toy into his bag and turns back to the front door. They both wait for him, Gwen with her arms crossed and determined to look brave as Jen grips her crystal tightly. As he grips the handle to his house, a shiver runs through him.

In and out.

That's all they have to do.

He twists the handle and quietly pushes the door open.

"Oh Jesus fucking Christ." Gwen's softly uttered words match his feelings exactly.

Side tables turned on their sides. Dishes and broken frames lay scattered and shattered on the floor. Scraps of what remain of the cardboard boxes are left strewn from place to place, their innards scattered, broken, or torn. David steps into the house and something on the wall catches his eye.

He covers his mouth as he backs away from it.

"Oh Jesus fucking _Christ_." Gwen's shaky exclamation matches his feelings exactly.

There. Nailed on the wall. The red bear looks almost crucified from where it is pinned. Words, scribbled frantically, desperately.

_ Angrily. _

_ You're supposed to stay with US. _

He whips his head around and notices more writing on the walls.

_ COME BACK. _

_ WHO SAID YOU COULD LEAVE? _

_ YOU WERE MEANT TO STAY. _

_ WE NEED YOU. _

Hands grab him and he jumps.

"David." He turns to look at Jen, and it scares him how terrified she looks. "We need to get you out of here _now_."

"She's right. Fuck your shit, we need to leave." Gwen looks around the house once more before shaking her head. "This place really _is_ haunted."

"...More or less," Jen mumbles, and it's enough to break David out of his daze to really focus on her.

"What do you mean?" His question has Jen look towards him, and then back at the doll nailed to the wall, and then to writing in muddy red. She turns back to him, brows furrowed together as her nail scratches at the crystal clutched tightly in her hand.

"It's... it's weird." She walks over to the bear, ignoring Gwen's alarmed hiss of her name as she pokes the crucified toy. "As cursed looking as this... thing is, I just get. Nothing. From it. Regardless, it's still hella creepy to look at." Jen steps and gestures to the wreck of a house. "All of this is."

"So, what? You're saying it isn't haunted now?" Gwen crosses her arms and looks nervously around the hallway entrance. "You're saying some punk broke into David's house and decided to creep him out?" Gwen spies David's name on the wall and grimaces. "...You piss off any of the neighborhood kids, David?"

"I- no I, well, I don't think so?" Well, there was this one kid who would glare at him whenever David would wave like a good neighbor. But he doesn't think that waving hello to some kid is enough to get him to- well, actually. It's not like he locked his door before running away, and kids are kind of mean.

He looks up at the scrawled words that are just eye level to him, and then to the bear that Jen still examines with a frown.

Kids aren't this mean, however.

"Well, with any luck, maybe someone just broke into your house to... scare you. And hopefully, they're gone now." Gwen sighs as she pulls Jen away from the bear. "Let's just get your shit and leave. This place is really giving me the creeps."

"To put it mildly." Jen turns to David with a frown. "Is that bear yours?"

"Uh, well... kinda?" He rubs his arm and looks at it nervously. "It was... I guess you can say, forcibly gifted to me?"

"By who?"

"I-" He gulps and looks behind her. Now that he thinks about it, he hasn't heard any strange noises from the house. No creaks or taps or strange scratching noises. It puts his nerves on edge. "If I said the house, would you believe me?"

"More or less." She shrugs as she plays with the crystal. "Guess you won't know why the hair looks and feels like real ha-"

"Okay, that's enough of that kind of talk." Gwen shoves Jen in front of her, ignoring the woman's protests. "Jen and I are going to look for the important stuff. Passport, official papers. You know, things you can't leave lying around for some burglar to steal. You go and grab your shit. And then come back to us." She fixes David with a pointed stare. "And make it quick."

"Got it." They both nod to each other as Gwen drags Jen away into the living room. It leaves him standing in place with a single realization. Suddenly the dread of having to go upstairs by himself is a little bit too much for him, after spending a week in the company of two concerned friends who'd stay by him if he asked politely.

He stares up the staircase.

It's a lot more darker upstairs than he remembers. Probably because of all the drawn curtains.

He swallows as he grips the staircase banister. 

He just needs to grab some stuff and go. Chargers, laptop, car keys, maybe some of his favorite clothing...

His eyes trail over to the bear nailed against the wall.

Well, whatever remains of his clothing he supposes.

A vibration in his pocket alerts him to something, and his heart skips.

Jasper!

Quickly, he reaches in and grabs his phone. His own good luck charm. Turning on the screen has him grumble a bitter grunt. It was just an app notification. Still.

He grips the phone tightly and stares up the staircase.

Jasper has never called him during the day before. But maybe that'll change.

He gives it a little squeeze and holds it against his chest. Jasper always calls when David needs him the most.

So he takes a deep breath.

And climbs the stairs.

The stairs creak as he walks quickly up them, but he forces himself to pay it no mind as he quickly rushes towards his room and opens the door.

"Oh... hooey."

Unlike downstairs, his bedroom lacked any of the cardboard boxes that littered the other rooms downstairs. So instead of being greeted to the sight of broken, ransacked boxes, he instead is greeted to the sight of a broken bed, his clothes strewn all over the place, and his belongings scattered this way and that as the side table that locked the bear away had been broken into. 

The plus side is that he can just start shoving clothes into the backpack without having to dig through his closet. Slipping the phone back into his pocket, he begins shoving what clothes he can into the backpack. Folding them would make more room for more clothes, but he knows better than to consider making his packing take any longer. With a few days' worth of clothes, he quickly skitters over to his desk.

And finds his laptop broken in half.

One less thing to pack.

One less... expensive thing to pack.

He ducks under the desk and finds his phone charger still in one piece. Nabbing that, he tucks it into the backpack and looks around some more. The practically shattered side table catches his attention, and he makes his way over to that next. Pushing aside the broken wood, he's left with whatever contents were left inside.

Photos, wallet, some spare change, and lots and lots of takeout menus. Without shuffling through the photos, he carefully stores them in the backpack. Next he picks up his wallet and dumps that in, along with the loose change. He shuffles through the menus, trying to find the last thing he needs before he can head back to Jen and Gwen.

He shuffles through the menus again, before lifting up pieces of the broken side table.

A slow panic builds in his chest.

That's.

That's strange.

He could have sworn that he...

He moves back to the desk, ripping open the empty drawers and looking for his missing item. Yet all he finds are pens and highlighters, all leftover from Jasper's previous occupancy.

He looks under the desk once more.

Nothing.

He runs to the clothes on the ground, checking pockets desperately as his panic continues to build.

His keys.

Where the hell are his car keys?

A scream resounds from downstairs.

Gwen!

He rushes to the door, only to have it slam in his face.

Irritated and panicked, he jostles the handle and finds himself locked inside the room.

Another slam is heard downstairs. And he can't hear anything else.

Quickly, he pulls out his phone and dials Gwen's number. It rings and rings and rings, his panic melting into something he's grown familiar with.

And then he hears someone pick up.

"David?" Jen's frantic voice answers his call. Her voice sounds oddly thick, and dread pulses through his veins.

"Jen! Are you guys alright?! I heard a scream and-"

"I'm- I'm okay, but Gwen, she found something horrible and- fuck, she fainted and when I ran and picked her up- something- something grabbed and pulled me, and now we're fucking locked in this tiny ass closet-"

"The pantry?"

"-because the specifics are so important right now, YES. The PANTRY." David flinches from the aggressive tone Jen takes, but he can hear the fear and panic that laces her words more than her anger. "Just- fucking get us out of here! I can't get the door open, and Gwen is heavy as hell- David, I-I'm worried, I didn't catch her in time, I think she hit her head I-" He hears her take a deep, shaky breath, before he hears a soft whimper. "Just get us out!"

"I'm- I'm trying, just give me a sec!" He backs up and rams his shoulder into the door. The door jostles, but not enough to break it down. 

Yet.

He braces himself and slams into it again, and he can feel the door start to give. For once, he's glad he never got a chance to replace the damaged thing.

"I'm on my way! Hang on!"

"David-" He hangs up before she can get another word in. He doesn't want to make them wait any longer than they have to. He has to focus!

He backs up further than before, and towards it.

Before he realizes something.

He smacks hard against the door, groaning as he rubs his shoulder.

Of course.

Of course the figure could never force its way into his room.

All the thumps and scratching and jostling. He was doing what the figure was doing.

Ramming his door.

But his legs are stronger, aren't they?

He braces himself again, but this time lifting his leg and placing his foot just next to the handle. With a deep intake of breath, he slams his foot heel first against it.

It doesn't open the first time.

Nor the second.

But by the third, the door finally breaks and swings open. He pants, looking at the dents he made. Another kick and he would have kicked clean through the door. He looks over to the hinges and frowns.

The frame shouldn't have held for this long.

Nor the door.

He shakes his head and picks up his backpack.

Whatever, he's out now. He runs down the stairs and towards the kitchen. A panel from the wall swings open, nearly colliding with him, and he kicks it firmly shut. Another secret door! How many of those does this house have?! With a second to spare, he kicks it again for good measure and yells.

"And stay in there!"

He takes just one step forward before something heavy and hard collides with the back of his knees. Just barely catching himself, he looks behind him to find a broken table leg laying innocently behind him. Growling, he picks it up and runs into the kitchen.

He's had enough of this place! Jen was right - this house was haunted and now they were all paying the price.

All because of him.

Pounding catches his attention, and he turns towards the pantry. 

"Jen?"

"David!" A muffled voice answer back. "Get us out!" He runs over and jostles the handle. Nothing. He tugs and pulls, but the door refuses to let up. With a sigh, he prepares to kick the pantry door down just before hesitation brings him to a halt.

"How close are you guys to the door?"

"Fuck- practically pressed up against it!"

Shit.

"Okay- just, hold on a second." He runs his fingers through his hair as he looks around the kitchen. Dishes and trash are scattered about, and the boxes that once occupied the kitchen are destroyed. Whatever was held inside them are strewn recklessly across the floor, the counters, the table. There were tools somewhere in the boxes but he can't see them anywhere. They might not have even been in the kitchen boxes. He bites his lips and looks over the kitchen again when-

Wait.

Jasper lived here before, didn't he? He left all his things behind and what not. There's bound to be tools somewhere. David paces in front of the pantry door, Jen's frantic voice failing to distract him.

Think. Think!

Where do tools normally go?

In a house as small of his, he would have come across them at one point. But he hasn't. So where...

Jasper's words come back to him in a brief second.

_"Don't go into the basement."_

The one place he hasn't looked.

His fingers trace over where his phone lies.

He doesn't have a choice.

There might be screwdrivers down there or hell- if he's lucky, a crowbar. Something that can help him get his friends out without hurting them. 

"I'll... I'll be right back."

"David?"

"I'm gonna go get something to break down the door! Just-" He drops his backpack and holds onto the broken table leg even tighter. "Hang on, alright? I'll be back before you know it!"

"David! Wait!" He ignores her cries and races out of the kitchen, only to trip over the floor lamp- Jesus, when did it end up in the hallway? His feet stagger as he regains his footing. A couch cushion flies out from the living room, smacking against the wall as another follows suit. He kicks them away as the red words on the wall catch his eye.

_ STAY _

_ MINE _

_ DAVID _

He hates that everything turned out like this. He hates having to hold a broken piece of wood like a weapon, how his ears are already tuned to hear telltale creaks, that he knows what cracks are from damage from the rampaging figure and what cracks aren't cracks, that he knows to brace himself as the house forces him to _stay_. 

Except he won't let it have its way.

He won't let the _figure_ have its way. He's going to get that damn door open, and escape with Jen and Gwen.

More pieces of furniture try to block his way, as though sensing where he wants to go. To that door that's just a little ways off to the side. The one he opened once before his flannel when missing and was replaced with a bear. The one he now ignores and pretends is nothing more than a closet that holds forgotten clothes. Nothing more than a closet bearing no secrets.

He kicks away the debris that blocks the door. Ignores the chill that surrounds him as he struggles to yank the door open. The handle is oddly slippery, but it's not enough to stop him from kicking hard enough to break through the door. 

It's easier now to open, now that the entire structure is superbly fucked. The door swings open as his eyes study the empty closet in front of him. Was it always empty? He could have sworn he left a jacket or two in here-

His eyes drift down to the floor. Right. He kneels down and feels around the ground. The real estate agent mentioned the basement as a sort of perk to the house. An additional level that David could use for storage or something. But he never got around to exploring the basement until now. His nails catch the edge of the panel, and he lifts it up with a grunt. The hinges creak as it stays upright, revealing the tight space that only one person can feasibly fit through. There's no staircase leading down into it. Only a dusty looking ladder that looks more like an elongated step ladder. 

He takes his phone out and ignores his notifications as he switches the flashlight on. 

It doesn't look like too much of a climb down. And...

He squints as he spots something at the bottom of the ladder.

That can't be.

He holds his phone tightly in his hand and carefully climbs down the ladder. It feels as though it's secure, but the steps feel weak. Each step he takes becomes more slow, more careful as he listens to the groans and creaks of the wooden ladder. 

Another creak grabs his attention. But it comes from above him as the house seems to shudder. He freezes in place, watching the space above him. Maybe he should have closed the hatch. Is it too late for that now? Is the figure above him, prowling the house and looking for him and his friends?

He has to move fast.

There's no telling when the figure will come out and find him.

And he doesn't know the basement well enough to know where to hide and where to run off to.

There had better be a crowbar or some tools down here somewhere. 

He climbs the last few steps fast enough that he nearly stumbles when he reaches the bottom. Remembering what he saw at the bottom of the ladder, he points the light down to the ground and shivers as a chill runs through him.

His car keys sit innocently on the ground.

How did they get there? He's never been here before-

The figure.

His phone vibrates in his hand as a name flashes up on the screen.

Jasper?

He answers the call and is greeted by a wave of familiar static. But the voice on the other side is unnervingly clear.

And panicked.

_"Davey!"_ Jasper calls out to David desperately as David's eyes try to adjust to the dark basement.

"Jasp-?"

_"You need to get out of there NOW!"_ David tries to look around him, but light from his phone fails to light up where his eyes can see.

"I will I just- I need to get some tools-"

_"No, there's nothing down there, you ha-"_ Jasper's voice cuts off, despite being the clearest it's ever been. Static tries to drown out Jasper's voice as he continues to shout over the line. Something's wrong.

"Jasper?" David bends down to pick up his keys when he hears something drop.

Something.

Dropped?

He pulls the phone away from his ear and flashes the light down at the ground as something rolls into his feet. A can for soup greets him as he recognizes the brand. 

The top is haphazardly cut into, leaving the edges of it jagged and sharp as the top was pulled recklessly away from the opening. Realization crosses his mind as he glances back up at the hatch.

The house creaks and groans all on its own. Sometimes even without the figure's movements to startle him into a panic. The creak could have just been the house.

Because if he didn't see the figure crawl down the ladder as he stood under the hatch...

He turns on his heel and grabs the ladder.

Just as something smashes against the back of his head. 

He drops his phone and stumbles away from the ladder. The light from his phone is faint, shining up at the ladder but nowhere else in the basement. A terrified wail escapes him as he tries to grab for the ladder once more.

But the blunt object collides with his head again, and he crumples onto the concrete floor.

The last thing he hears are the soft steps of footsteps drawing closer to him.

And Jasper screaming out his name.

////

It hurts.

His head pounds and throbs as he groans awake. Everything hurts so much. The back of his head feels caked up, and he winces from the sharp pain as his head involuntarily droops forward.

A soft whimper escapes him as he tries to move. Except he can't. Something is restraining him. It feels... rough, and tight on his arms and ankles. He flexes his hands to make sure he can move those, and feels his fingers brush against cool metal.

A chair. A folding chair maybe? He tries to move his body, but the pain from his head keeps him from jostling too much. Even just the slightest movement makes him dizzy and disorientated. As he tries to look around, he finds that room is... not a room. There are shelves on the wall, true, but they hold cans of food and bottles of water. He moves his head slowly to take in the rest of the room.

Wooden rafters? No, beams. Concrete flooring. And a single source of light that hangs from the ceiling. 

His cell phone lies near the ladder, right next to a damp looking spot not too far from it.

Wait. That. Is that-? 

The memory of being hit twice by something heavy. And hard. And footsteps.

Jasper's voice calling out his name.

And...

He looks down, thoughts now beginning to race as he recognizes that it is indeed rope that has him secured to a chair. With a huff, he tries to make the chair move, and it gives a little hop. Just. Not enough to get him anywhere at a fast pace. And the legs scrape loudly against the concrete floor. 

He's stuck. Tied down. His breathing comes out in shallow pants as he tries to struggle against his restraints.

And then.

A soft sound. 

A mumbling.

A... voice? He strains his ears to listen carefully.

"...-per, now I can finally get him to stay." The voice is... slightly deep. With a slight lilt that borders on cocky. Maybe... confident? But... "Ah, it looks like he's woken up."

His breathing stutters to a halt as he hears the sounds of footsteps coming up from behind him. They pause for a moment, before rounding around David's seat.

And what he sees before him is... human. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and a grin sharper than knives. A thin, pale man stands before him as he tilts his head to the side and widens his grin. 

"Oh hello!" He's oddly cheerful, despite the situation the man has put David in. "I'm glad you've decided to join us again. I knew it'd only be a matter of time before I could convince you to stay."

"Wha..." David's mouth feels like sandpaper, and he groans with discomfort as he tries to swallow past the dryness. "Who are you...?"

"Where are my manners- my name is Daniel, my dear." The blonde purrs out his words as he kneels down to David's level, a hand reaching out to gently stroke his cheek. "I waited so long to finally speak to you. But things always get so complicated with the house constantly falling apart." Daniel rolls his eyes, ignoring the state that David is in.

"What... what do you mean...?"

"Darling, did you really think you were the owner of this house?" The pet names make David's skin crawl as the blonde chuckles lightly. "I know the ins and outs of this place like the back of my hand. You know," he leans in close to David, his breath brushing his lips as David tries to lean back, "the walls aren't as thick as you think."

The secret doors. The creaks and groans in the walls. The taps. The soft whispers he swore he could hear when he passed by in the halls.

The figure that loomed over his bed at night.

The hands that clawed at his door. And tried to claw themselves out from behind the bookshelves.

The one that chased him down the hallway.

"...You." David watches as Daniel leans back with a satisfied grin.

"Me?"

"...You're the figure." 

Daniel makes a pleased noise as David continues to speak. 

"You're the one who wrecked my house."

" _Our_ house," Daniel corrects with a finger wag. "And all I did was do a little... redecorating. My temper isn't always the best, I'll admit, but I'll do better to maintain it now that you're staying with us."

...Us? Was there more than one "figure" that creeped in the walls?

"What do you want with me?" His voice trembles as he remembers Jen and Gwen upstairs. "How long have I been down here?!" 

"Oh calm down. You were only napping for a few hours. If you'd stayed out for longer, I would have woken you up. I do miss talking to someone with a voice."

"What does that even mean-!" 

A loud vibration rings out in the basement. Both men pause as David's eyes trail over to where his phone lays. Ice floods his veins as Daniel slowly turns his gaze over to the vibrating device.

And a wide grin spreads across his face.

"Oh dear," he says with a touch of faked curiosity, "I wonder who that could be? A friend? One of those women from upstairs?" Daniel saunters over to the phone and picks it up, his eyes lighting up with delight as he reads the name flashing on the screen. "Or someone even better?"

"Put that down!" Panic courses through him as he struggles against the rope once more. "Don't you dare-!" Daniel answers the phone and puts it on speaker.

_"Daniel, you let him go RIGHT NOW-"_

"Jasper?" The familiar voice soothes him for a second, before he realizes the situation he's put Jasper in. "Jasper! Hang up!"

"No, don't do that." Daniel brings the phone closer to him as he listens to Jasper's with a blissful expression. "Oh, beloved, I knew you wouldn't stray too far from me. And you even know my name! What a pleasant surprise. Given how we… never got the chance to speak before you tragically left, it leaves me feeling so warm-"

_"Shut the fuck up, Daniel."_ Jasper's voice shakes with an emotion David can't identify. _"Leave him the FUCK alone-"_

"Now, Jasper, why would I do that? When all three of us are finally together." 

"Jasper isn't anywhere near us!" In a desperate bid to protect him, David lurches forward uselessly as Daniel watches with an amused grin. "So leave him out of this!"

"Leave him out of this? Oh, you're so sweet. And so naive, my dear." Daniel sets the phone down on David's lap as he walks behind him, picking up something that sounds heavy. "He was always around."

_"Daniel, don't-"_

"I always knew we were meant to be together, Jasper. Even from beyond this mortal plane, you still stay by my side." Daniel rounds David's seat, holding something carefully in his hands. "I suppose you never got to formally meet Jasper, haven't you, David?"

David's heart stops.

And he nearly throws up on the spot.

Carefully cradled in Daniel's hands is... a human head. Brown hair, skin paled and blue tinged as the skin around his neck looked poorly hacked and sliced through. Ice clings to the head's hair and eyelashes, his mouth slightly agape as his eyes remain closed to the world.

"Say hello, Jasper." Daniel brings the head closer to David as he screams. "Oh don't be rude."

"That's not- that's not Jasper!" The voice on the phone goes quiet as David shrieks. "You're insane!"

"No, I'm quite sane." Daniel hums as he brings the head closer to his own face. "I just think you need to be more... open-minded." Daniel presses his lips against the dead man's thawing head, and both he and Jasper shriek together.

_"Put that down!"_ Daniel pulls away from the head and smirks at the phone. _"You're a fucking freak!"_

"Jasper, please. I don't know how long you've been around, but look!" Daniel cradles the head close to his face. "See how good I took care of your body? ...Well, what's left of it anyways."

_"You're disgusting."_

"I even gave your hair a trim! It’s just a shame that David never appreciated my little gift I made with it-"

"Please," David's voice comes out strained as he watches this conversation between Jasper and Daniel, "stop acting as if that head is Jasper. He's alive!"

"...How precious." Daniel turns his attention to David as he studies the ginger. "What makes you say that?"

"W-well." He swallows as he avoids looking at the dismembered head. "A dead person can't call people!"

"Oh really? Is that your argument?" He steps closer to David as he cuddles the head to his chest. "Have you ever seen him? Has he ever sent a picture of himself?"

"Jasp-"

"I wonder why he never told you. Seems like a big secret to keep to himself.”

_”David, it’s not what you think.”_ Jasper’s strained voice breaks through the static once again. _“If I- I tried to- I really did but I- I just wanted to protect you somehow and-”_

"David," he purrs out, "don't you think it's strange that Jasper is responding in real time to everything we do?" 

That... David looks down at the phone in his lap.

_"David, just ignore everything he says-"_

"We can't have him living in denial forever, Jasper." Daniel takes the phone from David's lap and smiles as he brings it closer to his face, the head cradled in the crook of one arm. "Especially if we're going to live together from now on."

_"You-! Leave him alone! Don't you DARE touch him-"_

"Oh I won't. Not yet at least." Daniel's eyes drift lazily from the phone to David. David squirms in his seat as he watches Daniel place the head down carefully on his lap. "Watch him for me, would you?"

"No," he gasps out. "Nonononononono-"

"I'll even leave Jasper's voice with you too! I just have to take care of some... unfinished business." Daniel walks over to a light bulb hanging above their heads and reaches up to the little pull chain.

"Wait!" David shouts after Daniel, catching the blonde's attention for a second. "What business are you talking about?"

Please don't mention Jen and Gwen. Please don't-

"Why, those two _lovely_ ladies upstairs."

_Nonononononono-_

"Leave them alone!"

"Afraid I can't." Daniel shrugs with a smile. "They saw where I was keeping Jasper. I won't be long, however. After all of this is over, the three of us are going to spend so much time together. As fate has so wonderfully declared."

"Please-"

Daniel pulls on the chain and drowns the basement in darkness. 

The only thing David can hear is the sound of the beams creaking and groaning under the weight of someone climbing over them.

The sound of his own choked sobbing.

And the familiar sound of static.

**Author's Note:**

> Just so you know, I already have four guns pointed at me to continue this. So it will be continued. Once I finish that last ahsdjfksa prompt!!


End file.
